


At Your Fingertips

by Lunafeather



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, PWP, Quickies, Shameless Smut, Smut, Solas/Per'nah Lavellan, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:59:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5409074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunafeather/pseuds/Lunafeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Per'nah wants a quickie, and Solas has a finger-licking good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Your Fingertips

He has come to believe that she has a certain fondness for public, yet secretive sex, a penchant for the thrill of almost getting caught, of almost being discovered. It is the only plausible explanation for her tendency to pluck at the cords of his arousal when they are not alone - the dragging of her eyes along his body in a crowded room, the brushing of her hip against his groin as if they have found themselves in tight quarters despite the vastness of their location, the subtle tug of her lip between her teeth as she holds his gaze while passing one another in the busy halls of Skyhold.

 

Surely she knows she is to blame when his carefully crafted control cracks, passion seeping through to seize the both of them for a moment sometimes seconds long (a delving, deep kiss over his desk) and sometimes many minutes (tugging her into a secluded closet and bending her over a stack of boxes).

 

Today finds her wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, too slowly to be subconscious, a mirror of the gentle glide of her fingertips along the edge of his desk as she hovers ever closer. For once, his self control wavers only slightly, their morning lovemaking sating _him_ , at least, for the foreseeable future. He can see now, though, that his vhenan’s appetite burns just as brightly as it had upon their waking, the flames licking slowly up his cheekbones and up to the peaks of his ears, dusting the skin there a lovely crimson.

 

She finds some excuse to lure him out of the rotunda; he loses the reason in the sharp sway of her hips in front of him, each rock back and forth knocking the words one at a time from his memory. Every minute or so she peeks at him over her shoulder, and he can see the rise of her cheekbone as she grins. Her hands lift to gather her hair up into a ponytail, the motion revealing the smooth, freckled column of her throat, and he knows she arches her neck for his benefit.

 

At this point, they are somewhere near the gardens, meandering down some random, empty hallway, but Solas takes no notice of this as he lurches forward to wrap his body around hers from behind. She squeals a little in surprise, the noise melting into a mewl as his hands slide up her thighs and across her belly, tugging her back to meet the press of his chest and hips. He buries his nose against her shoulder, eyes closing as she comes to life in his arms, her charade collapsing.

 

“I wondered how long it would take for you to touch me,” she murmurs around a giggle, and then she gasps, tilting her head to the side to allow him better room for the nips and sucks he peppers along her skin.

 

One of his hands drops to glide along the inner seam of her pants, the nail of one finger scraping upwards before stopping teasingly just before the apex of her thighs. She growls at him, at the hesitation, at the taunt, but he ignores her, repeating the motion. She rolls her hips back in retaliation, dragging a stuttering groan from his chest, earning her a growled _vhenan_ against her ear.

 

She spins in his arms and crushes her lips to his, apparently too turned on for patience as her tongue presses into his mouth to stroke his. His left hand moves to twist into her hair, his right sliding between their bodies to flick open the button of her trousers, his fingers slipping deftly inside her smalls. She hums with pleasure at his boldness, and her mouth breaks from his to suck in a breath when he pushes her firmly up against the cool stone wall of the hallway. He knows no patience, either, brushing a fingertip against her clit. His breaths hitch at the wetness that easily coats them both. She tilts her head back and he resumes his attentions on her neck, lapping at her skin in a rhythm to match that of his fingers as they glide along her to her entrance and back again. Her hips are rocking against his hand long before he finally sinks two fingers inside of her, and they begin to jerk eagerly as he curls his fingers against the sensitive spot _just there_. He groans when he feels a new rush of her arousal pool against his palm, feels the quaking of her thighs as she approaches her climax.

 

He considers taking her completely, like this, against this wall - he could, too, with a simple adjustment of certain layers of their clothes, could free himself - hard and swollen with longing - and bury himself between her thighs, one of her deliciously muscled legs wrapped around his hips. But he doesn’t. Instead he basks in the heated murmur of his name on her lips, the clench of her around his fingers, the smell of her sex as her arousal peaks. Later that day he will be sure to find himself in their quarters, filling her completely, slow thrusts drawing her jubilant voice out until it echoes around them as he empties himself inside of her. His cock twitches at the thought of her warmth around him, squeezing him, milking him for all he’s worth, at the thought of her nails dragging down his back to his hips to encourage him to thrust harder, faster, to bring them both over the edge...

 

His mind snaps back to the present the second that her muscles flutter sporadically around his fingers. He swallows her keening as she comes, groaning when her nails scratch across his scalp as she holds him tightly to her. The serene grin that greets him when he leans back only stokes his own fire, but he tucks it away, already planning his revenge. A wave of affection envelops him when her eyes open and she gazes at him with such adoration that he is afraid he may faint from the force of it.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. His eyes trace the curve of her cheek, the dimples etched at the corners of her mouth. A blush blooms under his gaze.

 

She leans forward to brush lightly bruised lips against his. “Sweet talker,” she says, and her tone says everything those two words cannot.

 

He removes his fingers from between them, and before she is distracted by the act of putting herself back together, he wraps his lips around them to suck her flavor from his skin, his eyes locked with hers. The blush on her cheeks deepens, her mouth falling open just slightly as he hums contentedly at the taste of her on his tongue.

 

“I am afraid _I_ am not the one who is sweet, vhenan.” His smirk curls with mischief, humor and arousal sparkling in his eyes. He chuckles thickly when she does not continue on to her task of buttoning her trousers, and presses closer to do it for her. His mouth hovers inches from hers when he begins his game. “I eagerly await the opportunity to drink directly from the source.”

 


End file.
